


Mr. Darcy's Petulant Desire

by reindeerjumper



Category: Bridget Jones's Diary (2001), Bridget Jones's Diary - All Media Types, Bridget Jones's Diary - Helen Fielding
Genre: F/M, Fanfiction, Fanfiction of Fanfiction, Inspired by Fanfiction, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-12 11:46:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11736408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reindeerjumper/pseuds/reindeerjumper
Summary: Bridget Jones is a big ol' fandom nerd, and Mark Darcy finds out.





	Mr. Darcy's Petulant Desire

“What in the world are you typing?”

Bridget was sitting on the opposite end of the couch from Mark, her laptop open on her lap while Mark pored over some legal documents he had brought home. She had gotten so caught up in her writing that she had forgot he was even sitting there. _Quiet bugger, isn’t he?_ she thought to herself as she slowly turned towards where he sat.

“Hmm?” There was a certain level of innocence to her tone that immediately made her seem guilty of something.

“I asked, what in the world are you typing? It sounds like the keyboard is going to take off at any minute, with the way you’re clacking about.”

Bridget turned back towards the screen where she had the latest chapter of _Mr. Darcy’s Petulant Desire_ up. She was halfway through the sixth chapter and desperately wanted to have it finished and posted that night, but this little hiccup in her plan was already proving to be more of a roadblock.

“Oh, nothing. Just some…stuff, for work, you know?”

Mark didn’t know she wrote fanfiction. She literally wanted to die just thinking about him finding out. Bridget could already feel herself warming as a blush creeped onto her cheeks. She secretly prayed under her breath that he’d leave it at that and inquire no further. 

“You never type that much for work. No offense, but I don’t think I’ve _ever_ seen you bring work home.”

_Bloody hell. Is he a barrister or a detective?_

“Well, y’know, Richard asked me to, um, bring home some stuff for this, uh, story we’re covering next week. _Very_ important stuff. I’m just typing up some questions for the…for the interview, yes, the interview.” She swallowed loudly.

“Mind if I have a look? Maybe I can help you come up with some ideas.”

_Oh, fuck._ The heat on Bridget’s cheeks was now comparable to a forest fire as the bottom of her stomach fell out.

“No, no! It’s fine!” she said, her voice several octaves higher than normal. “I have plenty of-of content right here!” _You’re bloody well stammering. You sound like an idiot._

“Bridget, what’s wrong?” Mark was now putting the papers in his hands down, making his way to stand up and approach where Bridget sat. She could feel his presence looming behind her as she fervently tried to escape the window and save the document at the same time. He settled down next to her, gently placing a hand on her hip as he started to lean over her shoulder. Bridget couldn’t hit the keys fast enough. 

_Frozen. The fucking screen is **frozen**._

That was it. She was done for. She let out a groan and dropped her head forward as she listened to Mark give little sounds of interest as his eyes roved the screen.

“Bridget, this is _not_ interview questions,” he said. She could feel him turning his head towards her, the hand on her hip giving her a gentle squeeze.

“What part are you on that gave you the first indication?”

Bridget heard Mark hum before saying, “Ah, yes, right here.” He pointed a finger at a line in the middle of the page. “ _Elizabeth brought up her hand to linger on Mr. Darcy’s face. ‘I desperately want to know what my thighs feel like on either side of your cheeks, sir. If you’d be so obliging, I’d be forever in your debt.’”_ The words coming out of Mark’s mouth made them sound even more sordid than they did on her screen.

Bridget groaned, closing her eyes and pinching a fingertip into each. _Now would be the perfect time for an earthquake. Or lightning to just do me in._

“Don’t get me wrong, darling,” Mark murmured, dipping to place a gentle kiss on Bridget’s neck, “it’s _incredibly_ well-written, but I don’t think Richard would find it quite appropriate for your interview.”

“I write fanfiction, alright?!” Bridget exploded, pulling back to look Mark in the face. “I’ve written it for years! My posts in the _Pride & Prejudice _boards had garnered a _significant_ following! I-I just can’t _stop_ , okay? That’d be ludicrous. I have _fans_!”

Mark’s face switched from amused to concerned in nanoseconds. He sat a bit further down the couch as Bridget ranted, his hands sitting in his lap as his brow furrowed deeper and deeper with each confession. Once Bridget finished, she was red in the face, huffing slightly and desperately trying to wrangle the wisps of hair that had fallen out of her ponytail. 

“Darling, that’s…I don’t…Bridget, I think it’s wonderful, really.”

“Oh, sure you do,” Bridget said, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms across her chest. “It’s just so _wonderful_ how I write two fictional characters into terribly detailed sex scenes! Or how I’ve managed to capture Mr. Darcy’s essence in an orgasm because it’s so reminiscent of _yours_!” 

… _shit_.

“I’m sorry, what was that last bit?” The furrow in Mark’s brow was so deep at this point that you could probably stick an index card there and it’d stay propped up. 

“I said,” Bridget began in a trembling voice, “that I base Mr. Darcy’s… _orgasms_ …on yours.” Bridget couldn’t believe where this night had taken her. All she had wanted to do was write some smut before going to bed with her boyfriend and acting out some of the things she had written. Instead, she was sitting in front of him spilling one of her longest held secrets as if it were a grocery list.

“Bridget, I don’t really know what to say…” Mark trailed off as he dropped his gaze to the floor in front of him.

“I don’t either. I really don’t. If you want to break up with me, do it now. I wouldn’t blame you.”

At this, Mark’s eyes snapped back up to look at Bridget. “Bit dramatic, don’t you think? Why would I break up with you?” 

“Because it’s _weird_. I _know_ it’s weird. That’s why I’ve never told a single boyfriend I’ve ever had that I write it. I don’t even think my friends know.”

“Bridget, I don’t think it’s weird at all.” Mark’s features had softened as he said it, and his hand slid across the couch cushion in a silent attempt to calm her down. Bridget glanced down at it before biting her lip and taking it in her own. She could see him physically sigh in relief before he said, “I actually think it’s quite admirable. I mean, I always knew you liked to write, but you have real work that you self-published.”

Bridget rolled her eyes again. “It’s not _actually_ published, Mark. I just hit ‘post’ on a website and people read it. I’m not getting paid for it or anything.”

“Still,” he said, punctuating his statement with a kiss to her knuckles. “It’s admirable nonetheless. You have a passion and are pouring yourself into it. Like you said–you have _fans_.”

Bridget laughed at this. “That was a bit pompous on my part. I just have…followers, I guess you’d call them. They comment and stuff on my posts.”

“Ah, yes, the posts based on my orgasms.” There was no malice in Mark’s tone, only mischief. Bridget looked over at him through her eyelashes, trying to hide her embarrassment at the secret she harbored for so long being out in the open. 

“Yes, the ones on your orgasms,” she conceded. “But to be fair, I _always_ test what I write about on you first.”

At this, Mark’s eyebrows shot straight up. “Is that so?” he said, scooting closer to Bridget on the couch. “So, does your muse Mr. Darcy get to have any say in what your fictional Mr. Darcy gets to enjoy?” 

Bridget narrowed her eyes in mock thought. “I mean, I suppose he could. But it’s really a process that needn’t be meddled with. Muse Mr. Darcy has never complained once, much to the glee of fictional Mr. Darcy.” Mark was now sitting next to her, his arm looped around her waist and his mouth on her neck. She gave a little moan as he dragged his teeth along the taut muscle in her neck before sucking ever-so-slightly on the final resting spot. A shiver rocketed through her body. “Mark,” she rasped, turning to look at him. “What are you doing?”

Innocently, Mark shrugged his shoulders and said, “I figured I’d give you some…what’s, the word? Experiences. You know, research and all.” 

“Ohh, Mr. Darcy,” Bridget said with an impish smile on her face. “Are you suggesting that you help me ghost write?”

Mark laughed low in his throat as he peppered her with more kisses. “I’m suggesting exactly that.”

“Well, this just won’t do. The whole atmosphere is all off.”

Mark pulled back, concern on his face. “What do you mean?”

“The bedroom would be _much_ more appropriate. I think I’d be… _inspired_.”

Mark’s laugh now got louder as he placed one final, languid kiss on her neck before standing up. Bridget looked up at him with mischief in her eyes, the smallest of smirks on her mouth.

“Mr. Darcy would whisk Elizabeth off of her feet, y’know…” she said as she dipped her eyelashes down.

“Ah, yes. I suppose he would.” With all of the grace and elegance she would expect out of Mark Darcy, he bent forward and hooked his arm underneath her knees while putting his other arm around her back and under her shoulder. With one deft movement, he stood up ramrod straight and smiled at her. “Will this do?”

“Oh yes, Mr. Darcy. I think this will do just fine.” She leaned forward and kissed him. 

Mark started to walk towards the bedroom with Bridget in his arms. He was gazing at her adoringly as he said, “What vignette shall we test run tonight?”

Bridget grinned wickedly at him as she dragged her finger the length of his jaw before settling on the dimple in his chin. “The one you read hasn’t exactly been test run in a while. I say we get to that first…see where it takes us.” Mark claimed her mouth as he kicked open the bedroom door, his smile pressed against her lips.

“This collaboration is going to work out just fine, Ms. Jones. We’re very much on the same page.”


End file.
